Tacitus

Niir thought for a moment. "Yes, I suppose. I'll need some time to prepare. I'll come again, some time later. Just... Experiment around, I guess."

Niir raised his other eyebrow. He merely grabbed some pepper, sprinkled it over the egg, and closed the sandwich. Immediately, it began to glow. "You, Rowan, have quite the talent for Sandwicology. Either that, or you have more luck than any one person has a right to have. I think I will take you as my personal apprentice." He paused. "An older term, I suppose, but Va- The Breadlord has a certain fondness for that sort of thing."

Niir walked back into the room, having told a few of Vakash's higher staff about the sandwich. He walked over towards Rowan. Most of her sandwiches were glowing to Niir's eyes, showing that they were imbued. "So," He started, eyes stuck on the blood-pickled trout, "How exactly do you think these up?" He realized his mistake, and rephrased. "I mean, they're not bad. Quite the opposite, actually. Well, in taste, maybe, but that's not the important bit." He sighed. "What I mean to say, is, they're almost all Imbued. That is, they work as a sandwich." Niir had a certain talent for saying little in many words. He suspected it was part of his Toll. Niir raised an eyebrow. "Okay. I want you to try something. Get some bread, spread both pieces with Nutella. Then put a slice of cheese on one and spread strawberry jam on the other. That's one of the most basic recipies for a Strength Sandwich. Once you do that, how would you change it to make it... Say, last longer." The instructions were vague, on purpose. Niir was trying to see if she could, by instinct, create an Endurance-enhancing sandwich.

A busied figure burst into the room, arms full of both sandwich ingredients and papers. Somewhat gently, they were set down on a center table. "Ah, don't mind me," He said, "Just keep on sandwichin'. We like to get goin' right away. I see a couple of you have already made a sandwich or two. Don't worry if your sandwiches aren't Imbued on the first day. It takes a fairly special talent to..." He drifted off as he saw what was easily recognizable as blood-pickled trout. The employee at that station... Rowan, it seemed, wore headphones as she made her sandwiches. We'll have to watch that one... more importantly, at least for the moment, we need to keep an eye on that sandwich. This Rowan could either be an incredible asset, or an immense danger. If Niir was right, then that sandwich was Imbued. It did, indeed, have the glow of it. Or at least to Niir's eyes. It had required a very specific sandwich to give him what Vakash called "Sandwich senses". Niir strolled around the room, occasionally conversing with a few of the employees, but he always watched that sandwich. Vakash would be quite interested in this Rowan, Niir guessed. As he left the room, he called a Sense-thrower to watch the sandwich. A trusted sense-thrower. Vakash touched the brick, and turned it into bread. Whole wheat. With ham chunks in it. Vakash looked at his hands. He couldn't even access the Sandwich's full capability yet, but it was already so powerful. His Tolls had connected, compounded into something new. It was eating Vakash alive. But when he held this sandwich in him, the Toll faded. With the bond, he could live free of the Toll. Thank the Sandwich God for Causing this sandwich.

If the sentence gets too long, I'll get sweaty, this is the climax of the holy book.

Rigain let out a small sigh. "Then, go through the door behind me. It'll lead you to the Sandwicology branch. The underground complex is very large, so try not to get lost." The thin man, Avish, gave a nod to Rigain and left the room. @Dannex @The Ward's Guard @The Unknown Order

Rigain spoke. "You all have been hired by The Breadlord, as a crew of his sandwich makers. This position is one of the most valuable in his organization. To make sandwiches, and to discover new ones." He leaned against the wall, and eyed the recruits. "Let me tell you a story. In the early days, almost five years after the Sandwich God died, The Breadlord took over his organization. He immediately set to work, trying to uncover new sandwiches." He eyed the door, and spoke more quietly. "Those Sandwicologists stumbled across... something new. If you make a sandwich, and it doesn't fit into any of the basic eight categories, bring it to Vakash immediately." The door opened, and a thin man stepped inside, and looked Rigain over. With an almost imperceptible glare at Rigain, he turned to the employees. "Don't let him fill you with nonsense. There are no sandwiches outside of the eight basics. Anything else is either a false sandwich or a hotdog." He spat the word out. Rigain got the message. The blood-pickled trout sandwich bond could not be compromised. But what if there were more sandwiches? Those early sandwicolologists stumbled upon, the blood-pickled trout, only perfected recently, that didn't very well fit into any category. What if other sandwiches could be discovered?

Twice Steelran around the inn, watching. Perhaps he could sleep tonight... Twice was no Sentry, but he had plenty of practice not sleeping. Briefly, he thought he saw something glowing in the corner of his eye. Maybe he did need sleep... Letting go of most of his speed, Twice leaned up against a wall. These spikes... an interesting idea. Eventually, he dozed off into a sort of half-sleep, where he was conserving energy, but still had enough control to remain leaning against the wall. Something he had mastered a long time ago. Spikes... He thought as he Pushed himself up to the roof. Now that's a very interesting idea. Twice sat on the roof, waiting for something to happen. Something always did.

In the room stood a man at average height, yet imperious all the same. He looked around the room, though no one could quite tell what he was looking for.

If the sentence gets too long, I'll get angry, this is the beginning of the sentence.

Yup. I hear sentient weapon, and I think: Ahh. Nightblood.

In the back of the shop, there stood a taller man, who seemed to be yelling. No sound escaped his mouth, because he was throwing his voice into other rooms. A newer sandwich modification. He noticed Rowan, and recalled his voice. "You're the new one, then?" He didn't wait for Rowan to respond. "I'll send you over to Rigain, then. Behind me, second door to the right. Your right. He'll brief you and a few other new employees." And he continued to yell into other rooms, presumably shouting orders. Despite the radical modifications to the sandwich, he could still throw his other senses around, just with the added ability of voice throwing. As far as Vakash's scientists could tell, the only added Toll was an Idle dryness of throat and mouth.

Twice sat across from one of the inn's staff, just inside the building. He had been swindling the poor man ever since he'd run back to civilization. If the guy'd been good and gambling, maybe Twice would have... creatively used his gifts, but he didn't want the poor fellow to go broke. The man finally grumbled and tossed over some vials of steel, which Twice caught. Twice had already won over his pocket change, and the man was also a Coinshot. Strange that he hadn't gone into business as one. He probably would've made more money as a hired allomancer than what he was doing now, but Twice supposed... Maybe some people had the luxury of choosing their profession.

Here's my attempts, @midnight13 and @The Unknown Order (This one was weird, so I made the other one extra-amusing.) (Told you so.)

Vakash the Breadlord sat on his simple stone throne, in the large chamber cleverly hidden under the sandwich shop. In his hands, a sandwich. Quite possibly the most powerful the world would ever know. It had taken his sandwiches several months to perfect the blood-pickled trout sandwich. But they had tested it. It allowed a man to create bread. And Jams. And jellies. And butters, and anything that could be used for a sandwich. Unlimited power. Vakash threw his hearing into the shop above. He listened carefully for any disturbances. None. Simply commoners, buying common sandwiches. Most of them would never know a true sandwich. There was a reason Vakash called himself the Breadlord. He had bonded all eight basic sandwiches. He was the most powerful being that had existed since the Sandwich God died. And once he had bonded the blood-pickled trout sandwich, none could stop him. The Tolls of all of his bonds strengthened exponentially with every new sandwich, but with enough, the power provided strength to overcome them. Vakash ate the sandwich he held, practically shoving it down his throat. As he felt it settle in his stomach, he smiled. One week, a blood-pickled trout sandwich a day. And then none could stop him. Magic system:

It's both. Welcome!

Alright, here's the attempt, @Shard of Reading: (It's a little weird... But mostly fine.)

Yup. A pool of liquid, bubbling, difficult-to-draw-and-animate blood.